


The Storm King in the Dragon's Den

by greygerbil



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage To Legitimise Unborn Child, Mpreg, Newborn child, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: When Stannis learns that his lover Davos is pregnant, he wishes to be wedded quickly to legitimise his heir, but Robert is not happy with the idea of Stannis marrying a lowborn criminal. Even Stannis' obedience to his brother has its limits, however.





	The Storm King in the Dragon's Den

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).

Davos was set to arrive at court soon and Stannis had never been so nervous to meet anyone in his life.

They had slept together only once, the night before they were both to set sail for Dragonstone on separate ships. Stannis had had too much wine, which was unlike him, but it had helped his nerves to settle. He’d held a castle and he’d sailed ships, so he had had a little experience in warfare and a little in seafare. He had doubted whether he was accomplished enough in either to successfully assault a fortress said to be built of the stones of hell by Valyrian wizards.

His new smuggler knight, fingers still red with fresh scars, had been at his side ever since he had slid into Storm’s End on his little onion ship. Stannis had considered himself lucky for it. When Robert had ordered him to build a fleet, Stannis was almost as grateful to Davos as he’d been when he saw his hold full of food, for Davos knew about ship carpentry and the right material for sails and which hull favoured which sort of current. Stannis used Davos’ knowledge to direct the men and soaked up what he could, pressing Davos for more information so that in time he might not need to bother him about every detail. This also afforded him the opportunity to be close to Davos, which he enjoyed more than he’d then admitted.

So they had both been drinking and talking of war until they ran out of words and Stannis had languidly stared at Davos unlacing his shirt at the neck to breathe easier in the warm, humid air. He’d only noticed Davos’ teasing smile when he finally raised his gaze as Davos asked him if he wanted more wine. The knowing look in his eyes had Stannis feeling hot to the tips of his ears. When Davos had grabbed the bottle, but leaned in to kiss him instead of filling his cup, Stannis had needed nothing more to convince him to spend the night.

The next morning, Davos had stepped on one ship and Stannis on another and they had met only briefly the next weeks for Davos to take his orders while standing among Stannis’ many men. When Stannis had been called back to court, he had ordered Davos to join the scouts at the western coast of the country to make sure that the Krakens remained peaceful on their Iron Islands. They were nominally on Robert’s side, but had decided late and lost very few ships, whereas the rest of the great houses were still reeling from the war. However, since they were allies, the surveillance had to be done subtly, in fisher boats manned by smart sailors who knew how to look inconspicuous and avoid turning from spy to prey. Stannis had told Davos to return in a few months’ time should there be no trouble and had indeed received a letter telling him of Davos’ departure from a lord on Lannister lands recently. Really, Davos could have remained at this task indefinitely – he was probably the best man they had for it –, but Stannis had known he would want him at court. Davos was about the only man he felt he could talk sense to without stepping on his toes, and who told him the truth in turn were much mightier men flinched. Stannis needed that, being on the council now, where both reason and honesty were in short demand.

Despite looking forward to his return, Stannis had long fought with himself thinking about their night together and the ever-growing affection that had preceded it. Certainly he had no plans to enter a marriage if it meant presenting his spouse with a concubine right after the wedding night, and he would never put Davos in such an unworthy position, should he even want it, which Stannis doubted. However, he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to deny himself if Davos was by his side, still looking at Stannis the way he had those weeks before they finally gave in. Stannis had never meant to sleep with him then, either, and he’d ended up in his bed regardless. He hated to think himself weak-willed, but it was clear as day that around Davos, he would at least be in mind unfaithful to anyone else, and he could not see that feeling lessen if Davos did not leave. Stannis had debated keeping him away, but finally decided that that, too, was cowardice. Why should a capable knight not serve his lord at court? Just because Stannis could not keep his hands to himself?

This had brought the question that finally solved the dilemma: Why, indeed, should a capable knight not marry a lord? Davos had earned his title. Stannis knew many would not agree that that was enough, but he cared not about their opinions. Though they had slept together only once, he had known Davos for two years now – admittedly with most of the latter spent apart – and thought he had a decent grasp on who he was. He would make anyone a fine husband just by the strength of his character, was useful for a master of ships to have around for his experience, and seemed earnestly attached to Stannis. He was a good match, provided he agreed.

Stannis had settled on the thought of offering him marriage by the time Davos should have arrived back. A week passed, though, then another, and one more. There had been storms and snow lately and travelling could be slow even on the King’s Road, but this delay seemed odd and left Stannis staring sleepless into the darkness too often. Davos was not much of a fighter and you never knew what trouble a man could get into in thick forests and ragged hills. No one would recognise him as friend to a lord and try to take him hostage, Stannis was sure, but desperate people killed for the coin in an ordinary man’s purse, too. He was a handsome and personable, besides, and many hedge knights with few morals and too little to do after the war streaked about the countryside these days. The thought of what could have become of him if one of them had gotten their hands on him, perhaps after drawing him into a conversation in a tavern or on the road, made Stannis feel ill.

It was a stable boy who informed him of Davos’ arrival, one freezing cold winter evening, when Stannis had buried himself under a stack of letters in his study. The snow was coming down heavy as a white curtain and he’d not expected Davos to turn up now, of all times, or for anyone to be travelling in these conditions, for that matter. Surely it would have been more comfortable to at least wait until the worst of the storm was over? What could have driven him to push on?

The questions swirled in Stannis’ mind like so many more snowflakes as he descended the stairs, but were reduced to faint murmurs by his growing elation. Davos had made it back to him – that was the most important part. He hoped that their time apart had not cooled his feelings for Stannis, but even if it had, at least Stannis knew now that he was not bleeding out in a ditch.

He found him in the stables, standing with his back to the entrance and patting a shaggy horse’s neck. There was still snow on his shoulders and in his hair and all along the stiff, frozen folds of his cloak.

“Davos.”

Davos dropped his hand from the horse and turned. His cloak was parted at the front and Stannis suddenly had an excellent idea of why his travel may have been slower than anticipated. One would not expect a man who looked like he could give birth any day now to ride at anything faster than a slow trot, especially not when the roads where treacherous and slippery with ice.

“My lord.”

Davos smiled carefully.

Stannis had no words to express his shock or the hopes hissing whispers in his ears. Their night together had been just under nine months ago.

“I didn’t know you could carry children,” was all he managed.

“My mother had two fathers,” Davos answered, pulling at the coarse fabric of his thick doublet, which stretched too tightly over his stomach. Obviously he’d not had time to have new clothes made, maybe not even the money available where he had been, either. “Although I did not know I was capable.”

“Is it mine?” Stannis burst out.

“Yes,” Davos said without hesitation. “I have slept with no one but you since I joined you for the siege at Storm’s End.” He frowned. “Of course, I have no way to prove this to you. I know it seems very unlikely and I ask for nothing but to be allowed a break in my duties while I recover from the birth.”

Stannis should have been suspicious, yes. Logic dictated it; yet, he also knew Davos.

“You give me your word that the child is mine?” he asked quietly.

“Of course. I have no doubts.”

The plain honesty in his voice, the way he held his gaze was enough for Stannis.

“Then I know it is.”

For a moment, Davos looked taken aback before his expression softened into a smile. He stepped up to Stannis and took his hand between his own. The leather of his gloves was cold and damp.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You’re freezing,” Stannis noted. Even here, where the wind did not blow and the doors kept some warmth in, Davos’ lips were a blue hue.

“Winter truly has come, yes. I made slower progress than I hoped with the snow. Since I did not want to risk giving birth somewhere in a tavern, though, I tried to make good time this last week.”

“Why did you wait so long? You could have come months ago.”

For a moment, Davos glanced away. “I was worried. I did not know if you’d believe me and so I kept pushing off the date of my return. If you had not thought this child yours, you must have believed I fell into another man’s bed shortly before or after I was with you. I’m sure if you have ever been fond of me, you should not have been then.”

That Davos would have been afraid to lose his good opinion made Stannis’ heart beat faster.

“You gave no promises to me. I wouldn’t have had a right to be angry.”

“Perhaps not, but wouldn’t you have been regardless?” Davos asked, without judgement.

Stannis had to admit to himself that Davos was right. It would have hurt him immensely despite all lack of claim on Davos to know that this night he had been thinking about for nine months had only been a quick roll in the hay with the first available willing man to his lover.

“It matters not,” Stannis said sternly. “I believe you were faithful. You need to come inside now, though. You have travelled far enough in the winter night for someone in your condition. Have you eaten? Had enough to drink?”

Slowly, the numb shock that had ruled over Stannis until now started to loosen its hold on him. His lover was here, big with child, happy for Stannis’ steadfast trust in him. It was good, but it was so much more than he’d ever thought to look forward to, even as he built Davos’ return up in his mind. If his math did not fail him, Davos could only be a couple of weeks from giving birth. In a fortnight’s time, he might already be holding his child.

“I’m just fine, my lord. But I wouldn’t mind eating.”

Davos followed him out of the stables into the castle and Stannis found himself tarrying at the bottom of the stairs and then turned away. He had a couple of keys for empty rooms by virtue of his status, in case he wished to invite guests, and those were on the ground floor, which would be much more comfortable for Davos.

He unlocked one of the rooms which looked out onto an empty courtyard covered in soft snow undisturbed by footfall. It was cool in here, but no wind blew through cracks in the stone, at least, and a fresh blanket and pillows laid on the bed.

“I will get a servant to fetch us food and get a fire going. You can sit.”

Stannis disliked how much his words sounded like an order. He was still too nervous to be gentle, which had never come to him easily. However, Davos nodded his head and, after taking off his cloak and hanging it over the back of a chair, fell down heavily on the edge of the bed. He looked relieved to take his weight off his feet.

“Thank you.”

A maid was quickly found and disappeared in the direction of the kitchens. Stannis was overtaken on his way back to the guest room by a young man carrying dry kindling and wood for the fireplace. He noted the interested glance the servant gave Davos as he passed him by again on the way out. There’d be talking among the staff starting this very night, Stannis was sure, but he couldn’t stop that. Besides, Stannis planned to make an honest man out of Davos, even if the result of their time together was too obvious now to pretend they had waited quite until the wedding.

Davos’ shoes stood by the bedside now and his feet looked swollen, the seams of his boots imprinted on Davos’ skin. He leaned back heavily against one of the bed’s wooden pillars that held up the frame on which the canopy hung. His shortened hand rested on his stomach. Stannis found his eyes drawn to it.

“Are you truly alright? Is the child?” he asked, as the servant had closed the door behind himself, leaving the room filled with the crackling and whisper of burning wood, warmth slowly creeping on like sunlight in the morning.

“As much as anyone can say, yes.” Davos raised himself up a little to stand, but Stannis waved him down. He sat by Davos’ side on the bed. “It has not been a difficult pregnancy. No sickness, no pain… I only realised when my stomach grew.”

“Your task was dangerous for someone with child.”

“I have been at sea for long enough to feel safer there than on land,” Davos answered, hauling himself up, after all, to look Stannis straight in the eyes. “If I felt I was in real danger from the Krakens, I would have left.” He smiled at Stannis. “But I am grateful now to have a couple slow weeks before our child is born. I’m sure you need to get used to the thought, too.”

Stannis nodded his head. “There will have to be a wedding, of course, but we can keep it small. It should not be any strain on you… you two.”

“A wedding?” Davos asked, confusion in his voice.

“Of course. I would not get a bastard on someone. If you would have me…”

“I don’t want you to wed me to be responsible, Stannis.”

The use of his name alerted Stannis, despite the fact that Davos’ voice was not sharp. He felt himself tense. For some reason, he’d figured that Davos would have to agree, that it was not a question at all. They were fond of each other and it was the right thing to do to marry the person you got pregnant, was it not? And would a man not be grateful to be protected from the scrutiny that would come if he bore a bastard?

But Davos was a smuggler and now a knight that others treated with amusement for his origins. Why should he care if he did something that others found distasteful? He already had and was long tainted in the public eye. He could raise a child to be a good man or woman without Stannis’s help – surely he knew it, too.

“You don’t want to be my husband,” Stannis said, with a sinking feeling, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Davos shook his head.

“That’s not what I said. I just don’t want you to wed me because you feel like you have to. What will you think about this child or me in five years when you realise you’ve thrown away all chance at a better connection for us because you thought it was your duty? I offer very little but myself and this child will always be seen as lowborn.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I am so very fond of you that it is hard to face the idea of your resentment.”

The argument was something Stannis perhaps should have expected. Davos did not blindly grasp upwards as so many courtiers did. This was the first time Stannis wished he would.

“But I would have asked you regardless!” Stannis said forcefully, taking the small chance he saw in front of him. “All this changes is that we should wed quickly so that no one can doubt that the child is my heir.”

Davos looked surprised. “Truly?”

Thrown back on having to explain to Davos his plan of a love marriage, Stannis suddenly felt tongue-tied. It was so much harder to present as reasonable than marrying to legitimise a child was. “I had planned it, yes. You are – I think I will not find another man as suited to be my husband as you are.”

He groped for more words, growing red, grinding his teeth in frustration at his own silence; but as he did so, he saw Davos’ expression change to a smile.

“You have such trust in me,” he said, “I really should have more in you. I think being a criminal makes one disposed to be wary and no lord has ever shown me as much kindness as you, nor did I hear many stories of such things growing up. But no matter… you are different, I already knew.” He sat back a little, regarding Stannis. “If you asked because you wish to be my husband, I would gladly be yours.”

Stannis felt a weight the size of a boulder drop off his shoulders. He seized Davos’ hands, perhaps too harshly, but Davos laughed and leaned in to kiss him and Stannis closed him carefully in his arms, dragging the precious weight of his swollen body closer. They only parted at a knock on the door, Davos’ hand still lingering on Stannis’ thigh.

The food was simple, a thick warm soup of onions and carrots with pieces of soft bread to dip in, served alongside some orange cakes and apples. Davos was quick to take his place at the table. He probably hadn’t eaten since this morning if he’d pressed on through the storm.

“You’re still thin,” Stannis considered, as he had watched him for a while, merely rolling an apple in his hands. He’d already had supper.

Davos lowered the sop with which he’d been mopping up the last of his soup. “Are you asking me to eat less?”

“More,” Stannis clarified, pushing the plate with cakes towards him. “Maester Cressen used to say that women and men who are expecting should have meat on them.”

Davos chuckled. “I won’t be expecting for much longer, so I don’t think I can manage to put on much. Maybe next time.”

Stannis found his chest warm at the suggestion of another child, a future life for them. It still did not seem real.

Davos swallowed the last bit of bread and glanced at the bed. “Will you stay tonight?”

“I wouldn’t impose,” Stannis said, uncertainly.

He had thought of their night together too often, the way Davos had climbed onto his lap and lowered himself on his manhood, how strong his hands had been pressing him down onto the bed, how good he’d looked with his hair plastered to his damp forehead and shoulders as he took his pleasure from him. However, one could not expect such performances from someone carrying a full-grown babe in their belly.

“No, you certainly wouldn’t,” Davos answered easily. “I have missed you, my lord. In many ways.”

“Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”

“I can’t say I have ever tried, but I imagine some things are still easy enough to do.”

Stannis swallowed. He could only vaguely imagine what Davos spoke off, but suddenly he wished to know nothing else in the world. After sitting in stiff silence for a moment, he finally managed: “You should show me.”

It was strange to talk of sex, but the grin on Davos’ face made it worth it. It had Stannis feeling like he’d done something right in a matter where he still felt mostly like a man lost in darkness.

“I should first take a bath, though. There wasn’t much opportunity on the road,” Davos cautioned, after breaking a piece off an orange cake.

“I will ask a servant to heat one for you. You need fresh clothes in a proper size, too,” Stannis said with a nod.

“Cold water is fine-”

“No,” Stannis said stubbornly. Ordinarily it might be, but not when he wanted to make up for the long trip, the arduous task at the western coast, all the hardships Davos had endured before. If he would be a husband and a father, he would approach the task with the same dedication that he brought to every duty he had, as it would be his most important one.

Davos chuckled. It did not seem like he wanted to quarrel with him over this. “As you wish, my lord,” he said only, his voice soft.

-

Stannis left to get a servant and, after that was done, went to his room in the west tower to fetch an especially thick, broad blanket made from brown bear fur that laid on his bed. He loaded this on another maid before he headed for the kitchen to fetch some food that Davos could keep in his room – dried fruits, cured meat, bread, everything to make sure he would not even have to go through the trouble of calling anyone if he wished to eat before breakfast or during the day, should he want to rest.

As he made his way back with a bag so full of food it might have fed Davos for a week, he suddenly found a heavy hand landing on his shoulder. Turning, he saw his brother.

“I was just talking to my spymaster and there’s the most curious word going around.” Robert nodded down the hallway, a huge grin splitting his face. “You whispering with your onion knight and him round with a babe...”

“He’s been here for an hour. I did not expect news to travel this fast,” Stannis said sourly, fist tightening around the burlap. How did the Spider do these things? The walls truly seemed to have ears in the Red Keep.

Robert shrugged.

“The Mad King didn’t lose because of his spymaster,” he said. “Is it yours? You haven’t seen him in so long.”

“Yes, it is. Davos told me.”

“Good to know you found ways to sweeten the boredom of the siege.”

Stannis did not bother correcting Robert. It hardly mattered, in the end, when he had first slept with Davos or how often; that he had done so he could not and would not deny.

“If the child is to be seen as a Baratheon without argument, I will have to wed him soon,” Stannis noted.

Robert looked little less surprised than Davos had. “Wed him?”

“Obviously. He’s pregnant with my child.”

Davos had had a reason to be cautious, but it annoyed Stannis that his brother seemed bemused as well. Why was it so strange that he wished to do what they had all been taught was right?

“I have a daughter in the Vale, too – you know this. She’s a sweet child, but that doesn’t mean I am going to wed a peasant woman,” Robert said slowly.

“That’s the decision you made,” Robert answered disdainfully. “I choose differently. Pregnant or not, Ser Davos will make me a good husband.”

The grin that had been on Robert’s face so far finally dropped. “You are a prince of the realm, Stannis. You can’t marry a smuggler just because he spread his legs for you a few times. Trust me, there’d be others willing if you cared to look.” He shrugged. “The man has been gone for the greater part of the year, anyway. You have no way of knowing if it is your child in his belly.”

“I trust Davos’ word,” Stannis insisted.

“I don’t, and even if I did, it wouldn’t make any difference,” Robert gave back, squaring his shoulders.

“So? I’m not asking you to marry him.”

“You don’t understand. As your older brother, I _forbid_ a marriage to him. I am still the head of the Baratheon house and I will have a say in its lineage.”

Stannis found himself stunned silent, simply staring at Robert. His brother’s eyes wavered for a moment, but then he drew himself up and finally gave Stannis a curt nod before he turned away.

Listening to his brother was among the duties Stannis had always considered paramount. He’d followed him even when it meant rebelling against the king he’d been told to uphold against all treason and insurgence. He’d surrendered Storm’s End at Stannis’ orders, his home and the lands he’d known all his life for Dragonstone and its much poorer belongings. He’d followed every command during the war as best as he could, even if he had not always satisfied Robert.

But which duty was greater, that to his brother or the unborn life he had created and the man he’d chosen to take to bed?

It took Stannis only a second to decide. The situation he was in was the result of his weaknesses, but he would not escape it by proving himself unsteady once more, even if in the eyes of the court that would have been seen as the less scandalous thing to do. What inflamed gossip and what was truly dishonourable were often different things and Stannis had had to learn to trust his own sense of right and wrong accordingly. Besides, there was smouldering anger left from his brother’s carelessness about his achievements in the siege, the blame he’d gotten for not capturing the Targaryen heirs which had been out of his reach before he’d even had a chance to get to them, the loss of his inheritance, which now flamed up anew. He was not ready to let Robert take this from him, too. 

Turning on his heel, Stannis stormed towards the guest room he’d picked for Davos. Stannis did not think Robert capable of truly harming his lover or his child. However, his brother could be obstinate and he had blithely taken in a nest of snakes from the former king which were still spread out all over the castle. What if Robert carelessly voiced his displeasure to a man like Varys? Would Davos be dragged into some hidden place outside the city until he gave birth to make sure Stannis could not properly acknowledge the child? After his issue was born, only Robert would be able to turn them into his heir by royal decree, and he was obviously hardly inclined to.

They had to leave tonight and while Stannis did not have Storm’s End, thanks to his brother, he had lands of his own not far off.

He returned to find Davos wrapped in his bear fur blanket and nothing else, hair still damp. He smiled as he saw Stannis, but the expression faded as he caught the look on his face.

“What happened, my lord?”

“You must put on your clothes. We have to leave.”

Davos stood, heading for the table, where a servant had left a stack of freshly washed garments. He faced away from Stannis as he let the blanket slide off his shoulders and had Stannis not still been almost shaking with anger, he may have had a moment to appreciate the lean muscle that moved in his back.

“I don’t understand,” Davos said, as he pulled the doublet over his head.

“My brother does not wish us to marry. He also employs men I don’t trust who may act in what they think his will.” Stannis glanced at Davos. “Besides, we don’t have much time to be wed to legitimise the child and he is lord in these parts. A septon might want the king’s blessing before marrying off his brother. Luckily, there are lands where I rule foremost.”

“We will go against the king’s will?” Davos asked, freezing with his belt in hand.

“Yes,” Stannis admitted. There was no other way to put it.

Davos looked fearful, but after a brief pause, he resumed getting dressed. “If you think that’s a wise idea...”

Stannis wasn’t sure, but he nodded his head. If there would be repercussions, they would be for Stannis himself, he was certain. Perhaps he would be thrown off the council, sent in disgrace to Dragonstone, or away to govern some tiny island in the far North. At this point, he cared little.

Davos struggled with the breeches, though they were wider than the ones he’d worn before, and fumbled so awkwardly around his big belly to put on his boots that Stannis got on one knee and pulled them on for him. Even as Davos thanked him, he strode across the room and grabbed the bag of too much food he’d brought from the kitchens and threw it on top of his blanket, which he tied up like a sack. They would need perhaps three days to Dragonstone depending on whether the winds favoured them. He still had to fetch water flasks and something to pull over their clothes for warmth. Snow could be turned into more water if needed. It would have to be enough for the journey.

-

They did not alert more than two tired stable boys as they got their horses, but Stannis still pushed on through the city as fast as he dared, for he knew that might already be enough to keep Varys’ informants on their heels. Davos was silent as they rode through the snow, wrapped in one of the cloaks Stannis had fetched for them before they left. The cold wind bit at their faces.

They headed for the haven, where a small contingent of watchmen was guarding the royal ships. Since Stannis had built and led the fleet, the men here still knew him better than their new king and greeted him with ready obedience; it was that which he’d counted on.

“I need to be away at once,” he told one man as he slid off his horse and offered his hand to help Davos off the back of his horse.

“Do you need any men, my lord? I’m not sure we can fetch them quickly this late at night...”

“No, just take care to send someone back to the Red Keep with the horses. Any ship someone can handle by themselves should do.”

There were several swift, small vessels among the war galleys here, for scouts and spies were no less useful on water than they were on land. Stannis, who knew more about war ships, let Davos choose. He decided for a small boat called the Blue Marlin, its name scratched directly into the wooden planks.

“Do you think we can risk sailing into open water?” Stannis asked, once they had loosened the rope, readied the sail, and slid away into the dark gap between two towering galleys. The clouds overhead hung dark and low. “It might serve us better to keep close to the shore for a while until the weather clears up.”

“I think it should be fine. The storm has calmed down,” Davos said, lifting his head into the wind. “The sky is overcast, but I know the way from King’s Landing to Dragonstone well. I could bring us there in worse weather than this.”

“Just tell me what to do. You should be sleeping,” Stannis murmured glumly. “It’s already an embarrassment that I must make you do this.”

Davos was young and strong and healthy, but he was also days from giving birth. It irked him immensely that because of his brother’s hard-headedness, he had to drag Davos from the promise of a warm bed and servants to cater to his needs onto the open sea and back into the harsh winter weather.

The planks creaked behind him and a hand landed between his shoulder blades.

“I am only grateful you are so determined to wed me and make this child your heir that you would openly defy your brother, my lord. Besides, being on a boat is never a hardship for me.”

Stannis turned and found a genuine smile on Davos’ face that had his stomach flutter. Davos held on to his shoulders to pull himself up into a kiss.

“Let me bring us out of the haven and set course,” he said, taking the rope out of his hand. “Afterwards, I will leave it to you.”

-

The wind was just as they needed it, though the price they paid was its cold, hard breath on them. As the squalls blew them in the right direction, Davos and Stannis spent much of their time huddled under the thick bear fur.

For how hunted he’d felt that first night at the Red Keep, making decision after decision that would change his life forever, calm settled over Stannis now and Davos seemed to be breathing easier as well. They spoke of the months they had been separated. Stannis listened to his reports of the Greyjoy activities with interest, but what drew him in more was to hear Davos talk of life at sea. He spoke of it with affection and reverence and it reassured Stannis that despite his pregnancy, he had not suffered out there. Stannis, in turn, told of the court and his many grievances.

“Would you rather remain at Dragonstone?” Davos asked.

Stannis thought on it for a moment. Davos’ head leaned on his shoulder as he cracked hazelnuts on the planks with a stone he’d collected from a cliff-side as they’d slid by. The snow had stopped and they were sailing into a pale blue afternoon sky. In the moment, he felt like he could have remained here with him under the blanket for the rest of his life, Dragonstone and King’s Landing both be damned.

“I have no love for it, but it’d certainly be easier,” he said. “Still, I wouldn’t have a chance to change anything from there and as little a voice as I feel I have in the council, it’s more than many get.”

“I understand. Some things have to be done, even if they are not pleasant.”

Davos offered him a handful of nuts, but Stannis shook his head.

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Davos pointed out.

“It’s not so long a journey and you will remember I have done without food for longer.”

“We have enough for two, though.”

“But barely enough for three. Eat.”

Though he shook his head at him with fond exasperation, Davos did as he was ordered.

-

They reached Dragonstone on the afternoon of their third day at sea, when the sun had just been swallowed up by the water. The castle reared high into the sky, black shapes of dragons with open maws and pointed fangs standing against a darkening horizon. Stannis found even looking at it disquieting, but now these high walls he’d had to beat himself against before would provide shelter to his husband and child and he appreciated them for that.

Davos had been quiet since the morning, only doing what he needed to help Stannis keep the ship on course. Stannis figured that after sleeping fitfully in the night, he was simply tired. However, as they approached the small seaside port nestled under Dragonstone’s massive curtain walls, Davos shifted, looking uneasy.

“My lord, I think it’s starting,” he said, as Stannis brought the ship in towards a wooden bridge.

Stannis felt his blood run cold.

“Is it not too early?”

“Not by much and the last few days have been exciting,” Davos said, one hand covering his belly. His face was tight.

Stannis grabbed on to a wooden post and slung the rope which laid coiled on the deck tightly around it, thoughts racing. He could hardly ask Davos to keep the child in if it wanted to get out.

“I can run into the village to find a midwife. They must have one.”

“I think it should be fine. It usually takes a few hours to really get going, doesn’t it?” Davos grabbed on to the side of the boat and forced himself on his feet. He looked at once uncertain and determined. “Let us find the sept, my lord. The babe is not born yet, we can still do this.”

Stannis was about to protest, but Davos was right that children did not come into the world from one moment to the next. He put his arm under Davos’ shoulders and pulled him up out of the boat. If they could ensure the child was born after their wedding and maybe make it to the castle to give Davos to the care of Maester Cressen, a great deal would be won.

Davos walked by his side, limping but not faltering even as his breathing grew heavier. The sept they were heading for was a small wooden building on the western edge of town. Stannis had visited it once or twice taking stock of his meagre new lands, which he intended to rule well even if he had hoped for others. As they walked the main road, two castle guards approached them, men Stannis had brought from Storm’s End. The older one of them quickened his pace as he recognised them in the gloom of evening.

“Lord Stannis-”

“You,” Stannis pointed at the guard trailing behind. “Run to the castle and tell them of my return. Ask them to fetch Maester Cressen. And you – follow us.”

They would need witnesses to make an argument for their marriage and because of that, Stannis could not even be displeased that some villagers were following them from a distance or even just glancing out of the open doors of their huts, though usually such obtrusive attention would have been maddening to him. Some may have recognised him and others probably just wondered about the strangers, but they would all have a use.

When the guard opened the door of the sept for them, they found the septon trimming the wicks of candles lit in front of simple, unpainted wooden statues of the Seven, the air heavy with the bitter smell of cheap tallow. The frail old man looked at the guard.

“This is Lord Stannis,” the guard announced.

“My lord.”

The man’s confusion shifted into trepidation as he bowed as much as he could with his stiff spine.

“We must be wed,” Stannis announced to him without preamble.

Luckily, it seemed that the man saw what the hurry was from Davos’ lopsided posture and deep frown. He nodded to Stannis and mercifully asked no questions.

A throng of villagers had gathered in the doorway as they listened to the septon giving a rushed sermon. Davos stood by Stannis’ side, holding on to his arm tight enough to bruise. They had to look like lost wanderers, Stannis thought to himself. Davos wore the blanket Stannis had given him around his shoulders and Stannis had only his simple yellow mantle. They were hardly cloaks of promise and protection as would befit a marriage rite between lord and knight, but they would have to do.

He almost missed his chance to agree to the marriage, but Davos spoke first, tearing Stannis out of his reverie and so he managed to put in his word, too. Davos’ lips tasted of the sea as they kissed. In greater septs, the rainbow light of the Seven was reflected through a crystal for the ceremony, but here, the septon grabbed one of the smoking candles that stood at the feet of the statues and lifted that instead. Looking at a leaking spot in the sept’s roof, Stannis told himself he would make sure the man would be rewarded.

Davos thanked the septon and Stannis supplied a quick nod before he dragged Davos down the aisle as the villagers parted for them. The way to Dragonstone was not far, but for Davos, it would be strenuous. Were he not pregnant, it would have been easy enough to lift him onto his back. Would his arms hold out carrying him all the way in front of him? They would simply have to.

“Pardon me, m’lord.”

Stannis turned to stare down at a young woman standing a little to the side of the greatest crowd. She was plump and dressed in thick woollen clothing. In her hands was a rope that was slung around a pony’s neck. The animal was pulling a simple wooden cart. It smelled vaguely of fish and was probably used to help fisherman bring their catch back into the village.

“My sister says you’ve got a pregnant man with you who looks uneasy on his feet,” she said nervously. “I figured maybe we could help, since I still had the pony up before the cart and all.”

“The Seven bring you,” Davos told her.

Stannis was glad for his intervention because his commoner’s inflection and smile obviously put the girl at ease in a way Stannis might not have managed. He thanked her as well, though, and meant it all the same.

“Your brother gave you rule over good people,” Davos said, as Stannis pulled him up into the cart.

Stannis nodded, glancing at the girl to make sure he would remember her face, too. He’d barely known the people that lived about Storm’s End, as no one had ever encouraged him to mingle with them when he was younger, and he’d had not had time nor inclination to get to know the ones living at Dragonstone yet.

“What’s your name?” he asked the young woman.

“Tilly,” she said, tugging at the rope as Stannis walked by her side. “To the castle gates, m’lord?”

“Yes, Tilly.”

She led the way, both her and her pony sure-footed on the uneven dirt track of a road. Snow was falling on them again and Davos sat wrapped tightly in his blanket.

Ser Henrik, a baseborn knight who’d been with Stannis during the siege, was manning the castle gates. The heavy metal bars were lifted, creaking and screeching, as soon as he saw Stannis come up the road ahead of Tilly and her cart.

“I wish you the Mother’s blessing,” she told Davos as Stannis helped him off the cart.

“Thank you. May she watch over us both,” Davos answered breathlessly, holding on to Stannis, a look of relief on his face.

Stannis glanced back up at the clouds that had gathered in the sky. It was pitch dark now and though he was sure Tilly knew her way around, he’d rather make sure she would not come to harm for helping.

“Ser Henrik, bring the woman back to the village safely,” he told him before pulling Davos inside.

-

Cressen waited for them in the first courtyard around which the battlements curled along the back of one and the tail of another massive stone dragon. Stannis carried most of Davos’ weight on his arm by this point.

“Good evening, Maester Cressen. I’m afraid I am in need of your help,” Davos greeted weakly. Stannis knew that he quite liked the old man, who had treated him kindly back during the siege. Despite all, he would bet Davos was glad to have Cressen here rather than Pycelle. Stannis had the same preference. While he did not doubt Pycelle was capable, he actually trusted Cressen.

“Then let us waste no time with words here,” Cressen answered, waving at Stannis to follow.

Cressen led them into the castle and along a winding hallway to an unused bedroom, where Stannis deposited Davos on the bed. He grimaced as he sat, but his hand lingered on Stannis’ arm for a moment and his gaze was all gratitude.

“Would you help me with my boots again? I fear I will not reach.”

“Why did you travel while Ser Davos was in such a condition?” Cressen asked, as he urged Davos to lie back against the pillows when Stannis had removed his shoes.

“My brother opposed a marriage and we wished to be wed, which we have done.”

Cressen glanced at him, but was sensible enough not to ask questions with Davos being in need of his attention.

“I still had a week or two, from my count, but it seems the child is hasty,” Davos ground out, feet digging into the mattress.

“This is my heir,” Stannis told the Maester, frowning down at Davos. It was not good to see him in pain, though he knew it could not be helped. “Yet another Baratheon child for you to deliver.”

“Well, I have not done too ill with the others, I should hope,” Cressen said as he reached for Davos’ belt. “They were born healthy and their mother was fine after a few days each time.”

Davos tried to smile at the calming words, which were mostly directed at him. Now that Stannis had more than a moment to look at him, it was clear from his pale, drawn face that Davos was worried. Who wouldn’t be? Even with an easier time to lead up to it, bearing a child was dangerous enough and Davos had never done it before.

“I want to stay,” he said, without thinking about it.

Cressen did not object. Stannis figured he knew him well enough to realise that doing so would have been pointless.

-

The labour dragged on from the hour of their arrival through the following night and day and then long past the small hours of another dark, wind-swept evening. Stannis would only doze fitfully and for sparse minutes when the contractions abided and Davos had a few moments of rest; he doubted his husband had slept at all. Consequently, by the time the pain spiked once more and Cressen proclaimed he was sure the child would come now, Davos was tired and weak.

Stannis sat behind him to keep him somewhat upright, as Cressen had asked him to, Davos’ head lolling against his chest. Though Davos still tried his best when Cressen told him to push, he’d stopped speaking to Cressen and Stannis a while ago, barely producing more than vague sounds when prompted. Perhaps he was conserving his remaining strength, Stannis told himself, as he squeezed Davos’ slack hand.

“Once more,” Cressen demanded and Stannis thought that he’d have given anything to swap places with Davos. He looked so small shivering in his arms. They said women and men with larger, more powerful frames had an easier time standing up to this sort of strain, did they not?

But Davos had not given up yet. He took a deep breath that seemed to pump a little life back into his body and pushed once more, the sound he made somewhere garbled at the back of his throat, a low mix of a whine and growl, more animal than human. Stannis put his palm against his forehead, pulling his head back against his own chest, holding it steady. Davos’ skin was damp with sweat and his teeth bared, but he kept the tension even as he gasped for air and then Cressen gave a word of praise and leaned back. In his hands, he held a babe, a small bundle of wet, wrinkled skin with wet black hair. It began squawking as Cressen raised it up. Stannis felt relief burn through him.

“You have a son,” he told Stannis and Davos.

Davos sighed, leaning into Stannis.

“Can I... ?”

One of his hands reached out weakly.

“We must still deal with the afterbirth,” Cressen said, shifting the child in his arm for the servant to take. “It should not be difficult. You have done well.”

Stannis remained with Davos through this last moments while he watched the servant woman cut the cord with a sharp knife and then carry their son away to wash him in a wide bucket of lukewarm water prepared for the occasion. He was still squalling. A good set of lungs on him, Stannis thought, almost dazed. How it should be.

“Alright, Ser Davos. You are done.”

Davos angled his head to smile weakly up at Stannis.

The child looked small as he was placed on Davos’ chest, but in comparison to other newborns Stannis had seen, he was actually quite large and well-built. Clearly good signs, but no wonder the birth had taken so long. His own blood had soundly beaten out any of Davos’ slighter features.

Davos gently pushed his fingers through the soft strands of dark hair before running his hand down the babe’s back in an attempt to calm him. When Stannis let his hand join Davos’, the indignant cries subsided.

-

Stannis proposed Durran for the child’s name, after the founder of his great ancestor mother’s line of House Durrandon, which had ruled the Stormlands before the Baratheons and joined with them under Aegon the First. Davos already knew of the story, for it was a legend they told in King’s Landing, too: How Durran Godsgrief won the love of Elenei, the daughter of the gods of sea and wind whose parents did not wish to lose her. At first they tried to kill him, but Elenei protected him; then they destroyed every castle Durran erected at the coast until he built Storm’s End, which could not even be taken by the gods.

“I could think of no better name for our child, considering where we met,” Davos agreed.

He looked a little recovered since he had slept a few hours and gotten a chance to wash himself. The babe laid next to him spread out on Stannis’ thick fur blanket that had protected them on their journey here, tired out from feeding and sheer existence.

Stannis kept it to himself that, on the worst days of the siege, when they were down to eating boots, he’d liked to think of his ancestor’s perseverance to convince himself to keep steadfast, telling himself that if Durran had held out against angry gods in Storm’s End, he wouldn’t be losing it to a few ships floating in Shipbreaker Bay. He’d also never tell that in one or two entirely silly half-asleep moments, he had liked to think of Davos as distant kin to Elenei, since he seemed to be made so much for handling the winds and waters that one could believe he must have the blood of creatures more natural to it than humans – and Elenei had saved her husband’s life once, too, much as Davos had probably saved his. The son of those two mythic ancestors had also carried the name Durran, like his father.

He knew, of course, that he was simply a stubborn man who’d dug his heels in during a siege and Davos a smuggler who’d learned his craft because he had to feed himself, but perhaps Stannis had a little of the nonsensical fancy that filled young Renly in his chest as well.

“Durran, then,” he said, gently touching his son’s cheek. “We should find out if I can carry children, if they will all be this size,” he added, as he looked down at their babe. He did not have much hope, since the last man he knew to have done so was a distant uncle, but they could at least try.

“Actually, it was an easy birth for a first time, or so Maester Cressen tells me.” Davos laughed roughly. “I admit it didn’t feel like it and I did for a moment seriously question my sanity, mating with such a giant of a man.” His eyes were bright with mirth. “I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing the burden, but don’t feel pressured to do so just to protect me. I am hardier than I look.”

“I know. Still, I saw how much it took out of you.”

“Perhaps we simply let the dice fall as they are cast,” Davos suggested. “There is no rush and we have a lot still to explore, considering you only got to try out these pleasures once and ended up with a husband and a child for it.” He lifted his hand to Stannis’ cheek. “Most men would be a little put off to spend their wedding night in a birthing chamber.”

“They must be foolish men if they complain about a good husband and a healthy heir. I’m no lecher,” Stannis grumbled.

Durran’s little arm landed on his knee. He looked down at the child were it laid between them, pawing at Stannis aimlessly. Durran had deep blue eyes, just another feature that made him Stannis’ spitting image. Cressen said sometimes a babe’s eyes changed colour later, but if they were to turn brown like Davos’, they probably would have been from the beginning. Stannis wished now that he could see Davos in Durran more, but perhaps that would come with time, as the child’s face set into its adult proportions.

“We’re not paying him proper attention, chattering instead of fussing with him,” Davos joked. “My arms are still weak, so you must pick him up.”

Stannis knew that Davos was not wholly serious, and yet, he took the invitation. At this point he was still a little hesitant to handle the babe, as it felt small and breakable in his hands, but at the same time he was happy when urged to do so. His son made gurgling noises against his shoulder when he put him there and Davos smiled at them before he let his eyes drift shut, looking entirely without worry. The obvious trust he placed in Stannis was almost overwhelming to him in that moment. For now, all he had to do to earn it was not drop the babe on his head; but he did not pretend ri himself that greater shadows did not lie outside the sturdy walls of Dragonstone.

-

For some days after the birth, they sank into a comfortably slow rhythm. Davos still needed to rest, so Stannis turned to matters of his lands and saw to it that his husband and child would be well cared for. He set apart some money to have the sept repaired and, as per a suggestion Davos made, ordered his steward to have a small feast put on for the villagers at a holiday called Stranger’s Passing, which his husband assured him was important to fishermen in these parts, to reward them for their help and their status as witnesses to his union.

The babe spent its time next to Davos in bed, though there was a crib he could have used. Davos claimed that it was easier for him to care for the boy if he did not have to get up whenever he screamed, which made sense.

“We can find a wet-nurse,” Stannis had offered him, on the first day.

“Why? I’m not busy.”

Stannis had never imagined his child being reared without the help of a nursemaid – it seemed normal to him for the new father to be assisted in such a way –, but found after a while that he much preferred it this way. Whenever he was not otherwise occupied, he could come into Davos’ chamber and find him with their child. It seemed somehow decadent to lie down by their side in broad daylight just to laze about, but Davos would lift Durran onto his chest and then curl against Stannis’ side and he felt as needed there as he never had anywhere else, holding them both.

When Davos had gained a little more strength back and was getting restless in Cressen’s prescribed confinement, Stannis took to reading to him from the many history books that had already filled Dragonstone’s library when he had taken the castle. Durran always stared at him when he did, as if he was also listening intently.

“I think he likes your voice,” Davos said.

“I suppose the sound of any voice would stir a babe that young,” Stannis answered, but he could not help but enjoy the thought. 

-

A week after the birth, Cressen allowed Davos to go on a short walk, which Davos greeted with great relief. Stannis decided to tag along, just in case he needed help and to carry their babe, which they had decided to take with them to get him used to the outside, too.

Winter had grown no less cold since their journey here, so little Durran had been wrapped in so many layers of blankets he looked almost double his size in Stannis’ arm, from where he squinted out into the courtyard.

“It’s so good to smell the sea air again,” Davos said, leaning his head back. The wind drove through the open castle doors up from the haven.

“Did it not come through your window?” Stannis asked, raising a brow.

Davos chuckled. “It’s not the same if you can’t feel it in your hair. Can we go past the walls?”

Stannis set the brief thought of Elenei aside and nodded. “A few steps outside won’t hurt.”

As they approached the gate, they found Ser Henrik leaning comfortably against the stone wall. Standing by him and gesturing as she told some story was Tilly. She stopped herself, however, when she spotted the two of them over his shoulder. Quickly, Ser Henrik drew himself up straight when she pointed and said something to him. He looked a little sheepish when he lowered his head as Stannis approached. Tilly bowed deeply.

“My lord, could I speak to you for just a moment?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” She took an interested glance at the bundle in his arms, then at Davos. “It’s just that the people in the village were wondering if your child had been born yet and how him and your husband are, on account of how quick everything went that night. I think they figured since I came up with you, I should be the one to ask.”

It was no surprise they were interested, Stannis thought to himself. After all, the babe would be their new master come Stannis’ death. Besides, considering the spectacle their arrival had been, the whole village would be talking for months.

He turned the child in his arms for her to see.

“His name is Durran Baratheon,” he said. “The birth went as well as is to be expected.”

“The Seven stay with us,” Tilly said, grinning at the babe.

“You saved Lord Stannis the trouble of having to lug me up the slope, I should think,” Davos said. “My feet barely carried me anymore.”

“Oh, I was happy to help.” She rubbed her hands together to produce a little warmth. “I’ll announce it in the village, then?”

The thought seemed to please her and Stannis saw no reason but undue pride why he should send a different messenger. Usually, one would probably task a guardsman with the announcement, but this seemed more prudent. The people of Dragonstone had seen enough men in armour lately to be weary of them, anyway. Stannis still remembered people cowering behind boats and houses as he led his troops up the beach.

“If you’re speaking to the others, you may also add that I plan to return here for the Stranger’s Passing to sacrifice with the villagers,” Stannis said.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Davos smile. Davos had merely suggested putting some money towards the festivities, but Stannis figured that as the lord of Dragonstone it would be fitting to show up himself if it mattered to the people here. The feast was not known in the Stormlands, but Davos had told him that along fishing villages further north of King’s Landing, it was an important holiday in which boons to the Stranger were given to the water, who on that night was said to pass in a black boat by the shores.

Indeed, Tilly looked happy.

“No lord has yet ever helped us keep the Stranger sated, but we should be much safer this next year if you did!” she answered with conviction, tugging at the rope on her pony’s neck. It was without a cart today and she pulled herself up on its sloping back. “Thank you, my lord. I will tell everyone at once!”

Stannis and Davos watched her descend the rocky path as they stepped outside the castle.

“I know you were not glad for Dragonstone, but I think the villagers here will like you,” Davos said.

“It won’t stop them laughing behind my back for the circumstances of our arrival.”

“Maybe,” Davos said with a shrug, “but they all helped a little bit, even if they just gawked by the doors of the sept, or that’s what it will feel like to them, anyway. And you did stand up to your duty when you got a child on someone and married them, even though I am lowborn. I think that will impress many.”

“Then I will appear more selfless than I am,” Stannis said. “I told you that I wanted you before.”

Davos chuckled, reaching over to pull a bit of loose blanket back into Durran’s cover before he squeezed Stannis’ hand. “Take it as compensation for the times when people have thought worse of you than you deserved.”

The idea that he could be seen as a benevolent lord of sorts, someone the villagers would greet happily when he returned from King’s Landing, seemed almost bizarre to Stannis. People did not love him; a rare few certain ones might, but no whole gaggle of them ever had. And what did it say about him that a fishing village seemed more suited to stand his temperament than the courtiers he’d grown up around and who he belonged to by birth and rank?

Perhaps nothing bad, he thought, as he watched Davos happily cast his gaze across the grey ocean. Dragonstone might become a second home in time – if his brother let him keep it after what he’d done.

-

Stannis had expected an angry letter to be delivered eventually. What came, a fortnight after his flight, was a scout in royal livery running up from the port telling him the king’s ship laid at anchor.

With few words, Stannis dispatched the man and found one of his own servants to fetch Davos and the babe from their chambers. As he walked through the open maw of a stone dragon into the Great Hall he was uncomfortably aware of its long teeth overhead. He had learned to ignore them and for a while almost forgotten they were there, but suddenly they seemed sharp and ready to snap shut once more.

Davos joined him a few minutes later. He had put on a new doublet Stannis had had made for him, a black stag on grey ground. Durran was wrapped in a fresh blanket, small fingers curled around its edges, whining quietly even as Davos rocked him. Stannis wondered if he could feel how tightly his fathers’ nerves were strung.

“Let me speak to him first,” he told Davos.

“I would not dream of interrupting, my lord,” Davos said quietly, adjusting the babe in his arms.

Two guards led Robert into the room, but halted at the door when he stopped them with a resolute gesture. Next to Stannis, Davos gave his best not to look intimidated, but Stannis knew he was. Robert was the king to Stannis, but he was also his brother and this was not the first serious fight they’d had – it wasn’t even the first _or_ second one in the span of twelve months. They’d argued for a whole evening when Robert had accused Stannis of letting the Targaryen heirs get away, and the discussions about Stannis being stricken out of the Stormlands line had been even longer and more heated. Davos, however, had not exchanged more than ten words with Robert, as far as Stannis knew, and he was not someone who foolishly faced danger head-on.

For a brief moment as Stannis looked at Robert’s broad, frowning face, he wondered if Davos’ trepidation was not wiser. Yet, Davos was a knight and Stannis a lord and so they stood their ground instead of trying to slink away into the night as a smuggler might have.

“Your bastard?” Robert asked, nodding at the babe in Davos’ arms.

“My heir. We got married before the boy was born. I have a village that can attest to the fact,” Stannis said icily.

Robert stepped forward and Stannis wondered if other people sometimes thought he looked this imposing, towering over Davos as Robert now did. It occured to him that moment that Elia Martell’s children had not lived and Robert had not grieved the fact. He had the urge to step between them, but still, he needed to believe that Robert was not the Mountain, wouldn’t actually take anyone’s babe from their arms and dash it against the walls. His hand was curled to a fist regardless, body ready to move at the first sign that something was amiss.

“Well, either you know what you like in a man, smuggler, or my brother is lucky. It does look properly Baratheon.”

“His name is Durran, Your Highness,” Davos answered quietly.

“Durran?” Robert snorted and glanced at Stannis, easing away from Davos and the child.

Silence stretched between them in the great, cold stone hall for a moment. Stannis held his brother’s gaze. Then, suddenly, Robert started laughing, deep from his belly.

“If someone had asked me which of my council members would elope with his lowborn lover and child, I’d have bet on Varys before you!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “You must have brought spells from your journeys, Davos Shorthand. I don’t know what you did to Stannis.” He glanced at the child again. “Well, if a marriage is done, it’s done. You had enough time now to take care of the wedding night as well, I would think.”

Stannis did not dignify that with an answer, but he worried that the blood he felt rushing to his face said enough. A couple of days ago, Davos had pulled him close once the little one slept. They still had to be careful, but Stannis had found out there was more than enough they could do even now.

“I still need a master of ships, though, and unless you plan to hide in your dragon fortress forever, I suggest you pack up your husband and child and get back with me tonight. I wasted enough time making it look like this wasn’t you disobeying me,” Robert added.

“As you wish,” Stannis answered, almost smiling.

-

Stannis’ heart was still thumping while he helped Davos scrape together the few belongings they would need on the way back to King’s Landing. As he saw Davos bunch up the thick fur blanket Stannis had brought, folding it up from where it had laid on the bed for Durran to rest on during his first days, he felt a fleeting flinch of melancholy for Dragonstone, of all places. He was glad how things had turned out, but he would be happy to return here where he had spent such pleasant hours.

“Is it true that King Robert started this rebellion over Lyanna Stark? Like the songs say?” Davos asked, into the busy silence.

Stannis halted.

“There were many reasons, but I think of all that happened, it’s what still moves him most, in the end. Why?”

“I see.” Davos smiled. “Then perhaps it’s to be expected he has such lenience on lovers, now that you proved to him you truly care. I’m very grateful for it.”

For a moment, Stannis wondered if Robert, who spent so much time in the beds of women, still saw Lyanna in his mind’s eye the way Stannis had seen Davos when he laid alone in the evenings waiting for him to return. It was strange to think that they were so similar, in the end, and he pitied him for the way fate had separated them. Had Lyanna cared for Robert like Davos cared him? Stannis couldn’t say and he didn’t know if Robert could, either. They had been parted too soon.

There was nothing he could do to help his brother, but he could make sure not to take for granted what he himself had. Stannis picked Durran up from the crib with one arm and took their bag with the other. Davos glanced up in pleasant surprise as Stannis pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Let us go,” he said. “We have much to do in King’s Landing.”

If Davos and Durran could make Dragonstone feel like home, then Stannis had no doubt that he would soon learn to like the Red Keep with them there, too.


End file.
